Emerald
by ElvenFriend2.0
Summary: What would happen if the Varden got the third egg? What if, in getting the egg, they lose Eragon? How will Saphira and Arya cope with him being gone? Will he come back? Note, contents of summarry will come to play in the coming chapters.
1. Chapter 1

One week after the end of Brisingr.

Eragon was awakened by the sound of roosters crying out to the sun's first light. He set about completing his morning routine: wake up, shower off, shave with magic, get dressed, and all the while talking with Saphira. It has been one week since Arya killed the shade, Varuag. One week since the death of his teachers Oromis and Glaedr. One week since Glaedr has disappeared into his eldunari. One week since we have truly been alone. One week since the Varden began occupying Feinster. They still hadn't moved on yet.

After he finished dressing, he asked Saphira, "I am going to talk with Nasuada about moving the Varden out of Feinster and on towards Belatona. Care to join me?"  
_No, little one, I am going hunting today._

"Ok, then, but don't be gone too long. Remember, Master Oromis and Master Glaedr's funeral is today, and we will be observing through a mirror with Arya. With that Saphira took off, and Eragon just stood there for a moment, observing Saphira fly farther away with mighty thrusts of her majestic wings. He watched her until she became just a dot off in the sky, and then turned back into his tent to finish preparing to meet Nasuada.

Before heading towards Nasuada's pavilion, Eragon decided to take a walk. Upon leaving his tent, which was still camped outside of Feinster, Eragon bumped into the messenger boy, Jarsha. Annoyed that he was being interrupted at the beginning of his walk, Eragon inquired, with a hint of anger seeping into his voice, "Do you have a message for me, Jarsha?"

"Y-yes s-sir, Nasuada sent me with a message for you," he replied, stumbling to speak at the obviously angry Eragon.  
"And what is this message?"

"She just wanted me to remind you to be at her pavilion by noon." With that Eragon waved him away, and set off walking. He meandered aimlessly, just enjoying the day's first rays of light, and the slight wind on his cheek. His mind began to wander, and soon he found himself thinking about Arya. _It has been a week since people began addressing her as Shadeslayer_, Eragon thought to himself. The thought brought a smile to his face. Only four people in history have killed a shade, _well only four have killed a shade and lived to tell the tale,_ Eragon corrected himself. Half of that group was alive today, and they were himself and Arya. During the last few days, Arya has been extremely nice to him, and they have had dinner together, as friends, for the last three days. Today wasn't going to be an exception, though, as they were going to eat after they observed his teachers' funeral. The only difference was, instead of them just enjoying the presence of friends, they were mourning very important people.

After half an hour of meandering, Eragon realized, quite by accident, that he had arrived outside his cousin's tent. Roran was standing off to the side, engaged in a conversation with Katrina, Horst, and Baldor. They stopped talking when they saw him walking up to them, but he heard part of their conversation with his enhanced hearing. "-just don't know how long she can last. It wasn't nearly this hard on her when the others were born."

Eragon strode up, and greeted each of them in turn. Then, with a knowing look on his face, he asked "Horst, how is Elaine doing?" Slightly grimacing at the question, Horst responded, "Not well, Eragon, she has been in a lot of pain recently. The trip here didn't bode well with her. I fear the worst, as her condition steadily declines." As he spoke, Eragon could see the pain evident on his face. Seeking to help, Eragon inquired,

"Where is she? Maybe I might be able to help her along."

"This way, Shadeslayer," he responded with a grin on his face. He then turned around and walked off, leaving Eragon to say good bye to the remaining group, and follow him. It wasn't much of a walk, however, as all of Carvahall was camped next to each other. When they arrived, Horst held open the entrance, and said that he would wait outside. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside.

To his utter amazement, the only things in the tent were: a bed for Elaine (currently occupied), a bed for Horst, and some clothes piled up in the corner. This came as a shock for Eragon, probably because in Carvahall Horst lived in as close to luxury as was to be found there, and here he was very poor. It was with a pang of guilt that Eragon recognized that this was his fault. _They would still be in Carvahall if it wasn't for my actions_. Clearing his thoughts, he stepped over to Elaine.

He was pleasantly surprised when he noticed she was sleeping. _Now I won't have to explain anything to her._ He then stretched his consciousness out towards her, and searched for anything out of the ordinary. Finding none, he averted his gaze towards the baby, and realized that something was wrong. "Horst, come in here for a second." The blacksmith was in before Eragon finished speaking, however, and had a terrified look in his usually calm eyes. He managed to keep his voice in check, however,

"Yes, Shadeslayer?"

_"_Who all has seen Elaine recently?"  
"Most of Carvahall, and some of the Varden." It was half of a minute before Eragon asked his next question.

"Has any magic users visited her, maybe under the pretenses to help her, aside from me obviously?"

Horst thought for a while, apparently deep in thought, then replied after two full minutes. "Yes, now that you mention it, one did. She came a week after we arrived at the Varden." Expecting this answer, Eragon immediately replied,

"Do you remember her name, Horst, or maybe what she looked like?"

"I don't remember the name, but it was a dark haired woman. She said that there was nothing that she could do for her, but I figure that you would be more powerful than her.

Nodding, Eragon inquired in a voice as cold as ice, barely louder than a whisper, "Was she wearing a bracelet in the shape of a snake?"

Surprised, Horst replied, "Yeah, she did, how did you know?"

"It was Trianna, the leader of Du Vrangr Gata. I'm truly sorry to tell you this, but she cursed your son with dark magic. Now, please stand back while I attempt to relieve the curse." With that Eragon stepped over to Elaine, laid his hand on her stomach, and said "Waise heill." After a full minute of nothing happening, Eragon broke the spell. He then tried a spell to try and completely erase a previous magician's effect on the baby. When the dark magic started to diminish, Eragon began to think it was going to work. Then, the spell started to take its toll on him, and the strength began rushing from his body. He tried to end the spell, but realized that he was connected to it until the end. Either the baby would get better, or Eragon would die. His strength drained rapidly, and he knew that he didn't have much time. Turning to Horst, he whispered, "Get Arya," then he fell, and the entire world turned black.


	2. Chapter 2

Pain. Excruciating, unrelenting pain. He reached to his back and found the source of the pain: a scar. The scar. The scar that Durza gave him at the end of the Battle of Tronjheim. From it came an obliterating pain that coursed through his entire body, blocking out all other senses. _This isn't right, the scar and the pain are supposed to be gone! The dragons got rid of it during the Agaeti Blodhren! It isn't supposed to be here!_ Despite his presumptions that it wasn't real, the pain persisted, almost as if it was demanding to be recognized as real.

Then, during a particularly strong bout of pain, it just disappeared; brushed away by some mighty, benevolent presence. Then a voice came from the being that wiped away his pain, _Peace, little one, it was just a nightmare. Rest easily for I am here_. Recognizing the voice as Saphira's, he settled back into better dreams. He rested easier, for Saphira's mind remained in Eragon's, soothing him mentally.

Slowly, he opened his eyes to reveal a tent canvas over him, and a blanket covering him. _Neither my tent nor blanket, though,_ he realized. After a minute of just laying there, he sat up and saw someone relatively unexpected sitting in a chair next to his side. "Arya?" he whispered. She moved slightly in her chair at the mention of her name, but that was it. _She's asleep,_ he thought,_ but why am I in her… oh._ At that moment, all of his memories came rushing back to him. _She must have managed to save me_, he deduced. After looking around for a while, Eragon realized that it was dark outside, and he wondered how long he had slept.

Eragon stood slowly and quietly, not wanting to wake her, but as soon as he took a step towards the exit, he bumped into her chair. Wincing at the sound of the noise, he hoped that she hadn't heard it. Unfortunately she had heard it, and she woke with a start. "Eragon?" she whispered when her emerald eyes met his brown ones. Before he could respond, though, she was up out of her chain, and was pulling him into a tight embrace. Extremely confused, he just stood there. About a minute later, she released him and backed up. He looked at her, and could have sworn she was blushing. She didn't look away though, and he could see that besides the slight embarrassment, she looked happy, if a bit surprised.

Still a bit confused about her uncharacteristic show of emotion, he asked her, "How long was I asleep?" She then sat back down in her chair, and motioned for him to sit back on the bed.

"Almost a week," she replied. _Almost a week! I am surprised I am alive at all_. Eragon stared at her then, and was surprised to find that she looked very tired and starved. He wondered if she had eaten more than a meal the whole week. He was about to voice his observations, when he remembered the state Elaine and her baby were in when he had passed out.

"How is Elaine doing? If I remember correctly she was having problems with her baby," Eragon added, with a knowing grin on his face. He reasoned that if he was still alive, then the spell must have worked.

Slightly grinning, Arya responded, "She is doing quite well, thanks to you, and had her baby three days ago. They decided to name the baby girl Selena, after your mother." Eragon was stunned, but yet honored. Still, he was going to give protest when Arya cut him off, explaining, "At the time nobody knew whether you would make it or not. They were extremely grateful for what you did for them," she added quickly, but almost as an after thought.

"I owe Horst and his family more than I can count. They shouldn't feel grateful, they should just know that I was paying back part of my debt," Eragon muttered, but more to himself than to Arya. Before any more could be said, Saphira interrupted with a loud mental shout. _Eragon! You've finally awakened_. He could tell that she had said that so Arya could hear as well; she was wearing a slight grin on her face and shook her head slightly as Saphira attempted to squeeze into her tent. Finally, she resigned to the fact that she could only fit her neck into the small tent. He was only barely able to contain his laughter at her expense. Ignoring his suppressed merriment, which flowed painfully easily through their bond, she managed to stretch her neck out so that her head rested on the bed near Eragon.

Through their mental link, Eragon received waves of joy from Saphira, joy that threatened to overwhelm him and block out everything else. He sent his happiness through their link as well, and for a moment they just sat there, reveling in the presence of each other's mind. It was a few minutes before he remembered Arya was sitting there in front of him. When he looked at her, he noticed the look in her eyes was mixed with confusion and amusement, with her head tilted slightly to the side. It was then that he realized that Saphira hadn't remembered to cut off her connection to Arya. Shielding their conversation now from the elf, Eragon was terrified when he thought to his dragon; "_Barzul!_ _She was observing our mental embrace a few minutes ago!"_

_Oh, don't be so afraid that she saw your sensitive side. I allowed her to view it on purpose, though she believes it was an accident_. Now scowling both physically and mentally to Saphira, Eragon demanded,  
_"Why would you do that?"_ he shouted at her, extremely irritated and angry.

_I was attempting to help you by showing her what type a person you truly are, locked in the confines of your, and my, minds. _This swept away his anger at her, but a hint of confusion remained, which he pondered for a minute. Then he felt extremely embarrassed when he looked up again and realized that a full ten minutes had passed since he last said anything to Arya.

"I apologize for leaving you out of the conversation; there were just a few things that I had to talk to Saphira about first." She dipped her head in a quick motion of assent, accepting his apology. In response he smiled at her, then asked, both to Arya and Saphira, "What all has happened while I was asleep?"

He sat back and listened intently as Arya explained various details of the Varden over the past week. They were still camped outside of Feinster, supposedly because of his injury. He then listened as Saphira explained how she allowed no one, not even Roran or Nasuada, entry to see him. He was a bit shocked, but in response to his unspoken question she explained that Arya had told her to. He cast a curious sideways glance at Arya, and noticed that she shifted uncomfortably when Saphira spoke about her. He then learned from Arya how she heard Horst yell out for her at the top of his lungs. She was confused, but Horst had mentioned that you needed help, so she came running. She had found himself on the ground of Horst's tent, unconscious. She had quickly moved him back to her own tent, and was greeted by a scared Saphira half an hour later.

Saphira finished the tale by telling how he got better: Arya casted healing magic over him, while she pumped energy into him. He was surprised when, in the private confines of their minds, she told him that Arya hadn't left his side the whole time, never eating, and only fell asleep around an hour before he woke up, and only then because Saphira was able to convince her that Eragon was cured and was just sleeping. He turned his head to look at Arya then, and just stared into her beautiful emerald eyes for what seemed like and eternity.

Saphira finally snapped him out of his trance, and asked him if there was anything else he wanted to know about the previous week. He was going to say no, but at the last second he remembered something and asked "What happened to Trianna?" At that Saphira gave a hearty chuckle, then, once again projecting her thoughts so Arya could hear as well, replied,

_Horst told me what happened, so I flew around until I found her._ Looking extremely proud of herself, she continued. _I then picked her up in my claws, not to gently I might add, and flew off towards Nasuada. When Nasuada was informed of what had happened, she ordered Angela, who recently arrived back with Elva, to search Trianna's mind. She found the conclusive evidence that she was looking for, so I ripped Trianna to shreds! _He was a bit surprised, but happy nonetheless that Trianna got what she deserved.

He soon focused his attention back on Arya, and said "Thank you, Arya, for all you have done for me." It was in a weary voice that she replied,

"It was the least I could do. I-" she paused then, appearing to want to say more, but not knowing how to say it. Oblivious, Eragon said

"We will talk more in the morning, ok? Please rest tonight, you need it, and eat plenty in the morning, as you look starved. Wiol pomnuria ilian." For my happiness. After that he went for the exit, when a hand softly grabbed his wrist. He turned around, and saw Arya holding him still, a weird look in her eyes. Then, she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips, just for a second, then broke contact.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN. I know that there isn't any action yet, just give it a few chapters. **

**I am really grateful to everyone who reviewed, so here is a big thank you. THANK YOU!**

**I will only do this once, as it makes me mad. Disclaimer: Christopher Paolini owns all of the Inheritance Cycle. **

Eragon found himself curled up against Saphira, a wing draped over him, in the morning. He hadn't slept at all last night. After Arya kissed him, she pushed him out of her out of her tent, not unkindly, and told him to get some rest. He had started to walk back to his tent, when Saphira stopped him, and demanded he ride her. He happily obliged, and it wasn't very long until they were up flying over the open ground. Saphira was happy Eragon was awake and well, and he was simply happy that she was happy. When they had returned to his tent, Saphira requested that he sleep next to her for the night. He gave his assent, and she repositioned herself, allowing him to lay up right beside her. He tried to sleep, but thoughts of Arya kept him up all night, and there he was at dawn, still awake thinking of her. _Was she just happy that I was alive? Was there something more to it? Whatever the answer might be, I can't go around wondering_. He then resolved to ask her about it next time they were alone. _Was that the kiss of a friend, or has her feelings towards me changed?_

_Good morning, little one_, was the response when he tapped Saphira's side.

"Good morning, Saphira. I am going to talk to Nasuada now, something I should have done a week ago." The last part was said more to himself than Saphira. She lifted her wing, so he could get out, and stated,

_I am coming too, Last time I left you alone you went and got yourself hurt! You always get into trouble when I am not there. I think I should never let you go anywhere without me!_ Her tone was completely serious, but Eragon could tell that she was joking. _At least I hope_, he thought. Regardless, he had been hoping that she would go with him, so when she stuck out her foreleg for him, he happily climbed up to his customary seat at the hollow of her neck. She then took off towards Nasuada's red pavilion.

When they arrived, Eragon walked up towards the guards, while Saphira went around to her hole in the side. Even though they recognized him, and knew that if he had wanted to he could kill them easily, they crossed their weapons to block his path. They immediately announced the arrival of Eragon Shadeslayer, which was met with a semi angry voice, which he could tell was Nasuada's. "Well, don't just stand there, let him in!" he smiled to himself as the guards let him through, mumbling their apologies. Nasuada was sitting in her chair, wearing a dazzling blue dress and a warm smile on her face as he approached her. From the side of his eye he noticed Saphira stick her head into the tent.

When he was halfway to her, she stood up, walked over to him, and gave him a hug. When she released him, she took a step back, looked him in the eyes, and stated, "I am truly glad to see that you are all right. Last I heard you were still unconscious. I am sorry that I wasn't able to see how you were myself, but," motioning to his dragon, "Saphira wouldn't let anyone in." He looked into her eyes for a while before responding, and was slightly confused with his findings. He could tell that she was glad, surprised, and something else… was she embarrassed?

"It is okay, really, but there is other stuff that we must talk about. For now at least, it would be better if we left the past in the past. Agreed?" He could tell that she was a little dismayed; she had probably wanted to talk about it in great detail. In the end, however, she gave her assent with a quick nod, and moved to sit back in her chair. She motioned for Eragon to take a seat, and then they began discussing what he had come there for: the future.

"We would've pulled our troops out of Feinster two days ago, but we were unable to do so because of your… injury. The Varden are ready to move out at any time, the question is, how soon will you be ready?"

"Tomorrow at dawn," was the immediate response. They then began discussing various routes to Belatona, as well as various attacking strategies. Through the whole discussion, Saphira remained quiet. Then, during a lull in the conversation, one of the guards announced the arrival of Arya Shadeslayer. Eragon was caught off guard, but was thrilled nonetheless when Arya walked into the room, her elven form moving majestically across the room. He was surprised to see the change in her appearance from the previous night, as he could barely see any of the uncharacteristic marks that had been there the night before. His stomach did a flip when she sat down in a chair next to him, though he managed to maintain an expressionless appearance. She turned her head and sent him a small smile, which made Nasuada glance curiously between them, before turning to Nasuada asking,

"What news do you have for me?" Eragon cast her a curious glance, unaware of when Nasuada had sent for Arya. Before he could further ponder his question, Nasuada spoke again, her voice dropping to barely over a whisper, "We heard from a spy that Galbatorix has decided to move the final dragon egg later this week, presumably to Dras-Leona.

This statement surprised Eragon as much as it excited him. One question remained, though. _Why would Galbatorix move the egg? It has sat in Uru'baen for years, what is different about now?_ Before he could voice these concerns, however, Nasuada continued, "We suspect that he has recognized the advantage a third rider would be to his cause. In fact, another rider for his side, especially one as powerful as Murtagh, would spell certain doom for the Varden." Eragon hung his head slightly in shame as he heard that. She didn't seem to notice, however, and continued "Our spy says that Galbatorix has already presented the egg to all who reside within his black city, with no success."

This new information stunned Eragon, but Arya appeared to have expected it. "And you want me to steal the egg. That is why you called me here, or am I wrong?" Arya's response came as a sensible option to Eragon, but he still didn't feel safe letting her go on such a dangerous mission by herself. As if she was reading his mind, Nasuada responded,

"Yes, I was going to ask you to go and take the egg, but I suspect that it will be too dangerous for even you to be able to handle it alone." Arya started to protest, but was cut short by Nasuada, "I know how skilled you are, Arya, but my spies also tell me that Murtagh and thorn will be personally transporting the egg." When she said this, Arya relented, and Eragon realized what was about to happen. "I wish to send Eragon and Saphira along with you." For a second, Eragon could have sworn that Arya smiled at the notion. "Together, you should be Able to steal the egg from Murtagh and Thorn and transport it back to the Varden."

Eragon turned to Arya, interested in seeing how she would react. He was pleasantly surprised when she favored him with a quick smile, before turning back to Nasuada and saying, "Yes, I think Eragon and Saphira would be the perfect pair to accompany me." Was he hearing things, or did he detect a hint of joy in her voice? She then continued speaking, this time very gravely, I do not think, however, that we will be able to defeat Murtagh. Must I remind you that it took 13 elven spellcasters, plus Eragon and Saphira, just to drive him away last time?" In response, Nasuada replied,

"I remember, but I have the utmost confidence that you will be able to get the egg. That is, if Eragon agrees to go?" He wanted to go, but he asked Saphira her opinion anyways, _"Do you think we should go?" _

_Do we really have a choice?_

_"No, not really. If Arya is going, then so are we."_

_Hmph. Well I think you should tell them that we will go, and that we will try our best. _He then relayed her thoughts to the two women in the room. "When do we leave?"

Nasuada replied, "Tomorrow at dawn, same time as the Varden in general is moving towards Belatona. One last thing, try not to get into an open fight with Murtagh, unless it is absolutely necessary, okay?" Both Eragon and Arya dipped their heads to display their assent. In as regal a voice as she could muster, Nasuada commanded, "Now, be gone! You have much to do before tomorrow, I am sure, and I'll not waste another minute of your time." With that they murmured their goodbyes, and left the pavilion.

Wishing to inquire about the previous night, Eragon approached Arya, and heard in the corner of his mind, _I am going to check on Glaedr, and give you two some space_. He touched his two fingers two his lips, twisted his right hand over his chest, and began the traditional elvish greeting. She surprised him, because instead of finishing the greeting, she simply said, "Hello, Eragon, how are you?"

"I am fine, thanks. How are you? When I left last night you looked like a starved wolf, and now…" he left the sentence open, just gesturing to her to make his point.

"I too am doing well. Elves recover much faster than humans do. Now, what is it you wish to speak of?" Suddenly embarrassed, he stumbled over his words, his face a shade of deep crimson. Eventually, he found his tongue and managed to say,

"I wanted to know about last night. Do-" he couldn't say anymore, as he was cut short by Saphira, who came crashing down beside him. _Eragon, come quick!_

Startled, he replied, "Slow down, Saphira, now, what happened?"

_It is Glaedr, he has awakened! He asked me, no demanded, that I bring you to him right away._ Frozen from shock, Eragon simply stood there, mouth hanging wide open. Pulling him back to reality, Saphira shouted, _Come on, let's go!_ She bent down low so that he could climb up. So complete was his focus on thinking about Glaedr that he didn't even notice that Arya had climbed up behind him.

Didn't notice, that is, until she wrapped an arm around his waist. When he turned around in his seat, she replied to his curious and confused expression, "I am coming too." Her tone left no room for argument, so he just nodded and turned back around. Saphira took off, and as excited as he was about Glaedr, he still couldn't help but blush when Arya's arm tightened around his waist. He knew she was just holding on during the flight, but he couldn't stop himself, and he interlaced his fingers with hers. She started to pull away, which made Eragon's face flush, but then she decided against it and just left her hand in his. This helped turn his face back to its normal color, but it still had a tinge of red on it from blushing when his tent came into view, and Saphira dropped to the ground.

Eragon and Arya jumped off of Saphira's back, landing with a thud, and ran inside his tent. Saphira followed, and stuck her head through the doorway. Eragon quickly ran over to where he had hidden Glaedr's eldunari, grabbed the bag it was in, opened it, and let it slide down onto his bed. He glanced back at Arya, who gave him a reassuring nod, before reaching out to the golden gem-like stone that contained the consciousness of his master. He now proceeded slowly, hand hovering over above the heart of hearts, when he felt a mind press against his. He was just throwing up his mental walls, when a familiar voice came through, _"Eragon, it's me, Arya."_ Embarrassed, he dropped his defenses and granted her entry into his mind.

"What is it you want, Arya Svit-kona?"

"I wish to hear what Glaedr has to say, and since I believe he will only be saying it to you and Saphira, then this seems like the only logical option."

It was with three different minds in his head that he finally touched the eldunari. Instantly, it started glowing, and a powerful new mind entered his head, and threw Arya's mind out of his head. Eragon tried to fight it, but it brushed his defenses aside as easily as one would brush aside ash on a stone hearth. Then, a deep, loud voice boomed throughout his mind. _Enough! I will only talk to you and Saphira! You may tell Arya Drottningu what is said and done at a later time._

Giving a mental nod, both Eragon and Saphira said, _"Yes, master."_ Then Eragon continued on by himself, _"What is it you want, master?"_

Softening a bit, Glaedr replied, _I need to make you stronger, Eragon. We both know that you can not do what needs to be done until you are. Also, I have come to fulfill my duty in giving you all of my knowledge that may be of use. You will need what I have to give you before the end of your next mission. _

This confused Eragon to no end, and he wondered to himself how Glaedr knew about his next mission, when he himself hadn't learned until that very day, and he hadn't told anyone yet. Seeking some answers, he inquired, _"How can you do this, master, and why now?" _

_I have decided that I shall try something only done once in history, to Irnstad Shadeslayer, which was done to him so that he could defeat the shade. I will funnel all of my energy, all of my strength, and all of my power into you. I will channel all of my vas knowledge into Saphira, and then I will be no more_.

"_No more, master?"_ asked a confused Eragon.

_My eldunari will shrink into a tiny golden bead, and my consciousness will pass into the void after the-partner-of-my-life Oromis_. Eragon could feel the sadness radiating from the dragon's eldunari at the mention of its rider. _When I am done, you will have power far greater than before. Power enough, I think, to do what needs to be done. _

"_Why now, master?"_ asked Eragon, repeating the question.

_I was visited by a certain werecat who foretold of you needing these gifts, and reminded me of the story behind Irnstad. _Eragon nodded his head, recognizing the werecat as Solembum.

_When will you begin_, asked Saphira, her voice barely louder than a whisper. Excited anticipation and dread about the eternal loss of Glaedr washed over Eragon from his link to her.

_We begin now!_ At these words, the golden eldunari, that was a house for the consciousness of Glaedr, began to glow extremely bright. A voice told Eragon not to remove his hand. He has about to wonder why the instruction was necessary, when a searing pain shot up his arm, and through the whole of his body. He vaguely understood that Saphira was also in pain as great as his. It took all of his will power to refrain from yanking his hand back off of the eldunari. A cry of pain escaped his lips, and saw, in the corner of his eye, that Arya was stepping closer to him, a terrified look clearly visible on her usually expressionless face.

When she was right beside him, he managed to grunt, "Stay back, Arya, I will explain later." Appearing even more confused, she stepped back away from him. The pain increased again, and Eragon let out another involuntary cry. Then, the golden heart of hearts began to shrink under his hand, until there was nothing left. In a small corner of his mind, he managed to hear a whisper on the wind, saying, _Goodbye_, before it was completely gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N. This chapter has the first actual fighting scene I've ever done in it… so let's hope it comes out all right.**

**Thank you all who reviewed, but especially ****Elvendiath****, ****and ****elven friend****. Gay as this may sound, it really means a lot to an aspiring author to read a review. Now… should Eragon have a kid? Please answer in a review or private message.**

"He's gone," Eragon told Arya. "Gone forever." He managed to suppress the tears that began to form around the rim of his eyes, not wanting to appear weak in front of Arya. He stood their motionless, silently mourning the loss of his master. When he finally turned around, he noticed the sadness etched onto her face. In the back of his mind, Eragon could feel Saphira's sadness crash across their mental link like a waterfall.

"What happened? Why is Glaedr gone?" As she asked this, Eragon was reminded that she didn't know what had just happened. Slowly, he recounted what had just happened between Glaedr, himself, and Saphira. He watched as her face turned from sorrow, to amazement, and back to sorrow as he finished the tale. Afterwards, she gracefully dismissed herself, saying that Eragon and Saphira needed time alone, but before she left, she told him to meet her at her tent in two hours time. This made him smile despite himself, and he looked foreword to the time they would spend together.

He went up to his dragon then, and sat down near where her great head lay. She looked at him, and he noticed something profoundly different. "Saphira, your eyes… they're different!" he spoke aloud, as she hadn't yet opened her mind up to him again. What he said grabbed her attention, though, and she opened up her mind enough to send her puzzlement at his statement through their link. He then sent her two images to prove his point: a brilliant blue orb the size of a round shield, only many times more magnificent, which is what it used to look like, and then what it looked like now; a brilliant blue orb the size of a round shield with gold emanating from the pupil.

When they were finished mourning, about an hour later, they discussed Glaedr's gift for the rest of the time remaining before they were to meet back with Arya. Eragon's physical appearance hadn't changed, except for his gedwey ignasia, which now had beautiful streaks of gold interlacing with the silver. When he left the tent to sit leaning against Saphira's side, Eragon noticed that his eyesight was far better than even his elven sight was previously. He reveled in the fact that he could now see objects miles away as clearly as if they were right in front of him. He could see individual markings on feathers of a hawk that traveled far overhead.

His sense of smell had also drastically increased. So advanced was it now that he could smell the individual animals being kept, slaughtered, and cooked throughout the entire camp. In short, all of his senses had been greatly improved thanks to Glaedr's sacrifice. Although he couldn't prove it yet, he had a feeling he was now much stronger physically, magically, and mentally than even an elf.

When it was time to meet with Arya, they were both in a much better mood than they were when Arya had left, on account of the fact that they now both realized that their odds in this war had increased drastically. Eragon skipped Saphira's offered foreleg, and simply jumped straight from the ground to the hollow on her back that was his seat. He landed lightly, feeling amazed by his apparent control over gravity, without even using magic.

It only took a couple of minutes to arrive in front of Arya's tent. Instead of climbing off of Saphira, he just dropped to the ground, before she had even landed. Again he landed lightly, and with no apparent injuries or pain. He walked straight up to Arya, not even waiting for Saphira to land, and initiated the traditional elven greeting. With his enhanced senses even more enhanced, he was extremely aware of her presence, of the raven hair billowing slightly in the wind, of the brightness in her deep emerald eyes, and the scent of crushed pine needles washed over him extremely powerfully. The scent was so strong, it almost intoxicated him. He savored every moment of it.

When she finished the greeting, she inquired, "How are you feeling, Eragon-finiarel?"

"Better than ever, Arya Svit-kona, and how are you?"

"I fare well, and I trust that you are packed and ready to go tomorrow at dawn?"

Nodding slightly, he replied, "Aye, we are ready. Now, what is it you wished to see me about?"

Their was a faint twinkle in her eye now, "After hearing what Glaedr did to you, I have decided that it would be in everyone's best interest for me to test your new abilities." A faint grin graced her beautiful face as she continued, "Of course, I won't be alone, as Blodhgarm and his spellcasters have agreed to aide me in testing you." They then continued on to the sparring field, talking all the while, with Saphira following behind. When they arrived they went up to the group of elves that had been given a wide birth by the rest of the training men. After greetings were exchanged, Arya stated that they would be testing his mental strength first.

Eragon took a moment to prepare, during which Saphira, upon a command from Arya, withdrew from his mind. He found himself wondering how he could hold off the might of the elves without her help. Suddenly, he felt the entire strength of Arya's mind bearing down upon him. Her mind was mighty and powerful, even compared to elves, and she used all of her strength in that initial assault. She didn't stand a chance. In less than five seconds, he had his defenses up, Arya pushed out of his mind, and then continued on to brush aside her own defenses as he captured her mind. Surprise emanated from her very being; not even Durza was able to win control over her mind. _"Very well done"_, she said to him through her mind before he backed out of it. Suddenly embarrassed, he apologized for entering and controlling her mind, blushing all the while. "No apology is necessary. Get prepared, however, as all thirteen of us are about to attack your mind."

He nodded his assent, and prepared his mind for assault once again. When it came, it was with all of the strength the elves could muster. They were more effective than Arya alone was, but it was all for naught. After five minutes of battling Eragon's defenses, the elves realized that they would never be able to force their way into his mind. After another three minutes, he had control over all thirteen of their minds. Surprise radiated again from every mind he controlled, including his own, except for Arya's as she had apparently anticipated the extent of his strength.

After he released them, Saphira reentered his mind. _Congratulations, little one. It appears indeed that now we stand a decent chance of defeating Galbatorix, and ridding Alagaesea of his dark plague._

"_Thank you, Saphira. I agree,_ he allowed a mighty chuckle to bounce across their link, _who now has the might to stop us?"_ He then returned his attention to the elves, who were staring at him, still astonished that he had defeated them. _They don't know about Glaedr_, he reminded himself. He realized that they knew not where his newfound strength had come from. Wishing to dismiss all theories, but not wanting to divulge too much of the truth, he informed them, "My new strength has come as a last gift from my late teacher, the great golden dragon Glaedr." Murmurs of surprise ran throughout the elves. In order to avoid any difficult questions, Arya stepped forward,

"The next stage of testing shall be with magic." Grateful that she had helped, he mouthed "thank you" to her, and she graced him with a quick smile in return. The smile made Eragon's stomach do a flip. "We shall not be testing your knowledge, but your strength and energy." He nodded for her to continue, for she was speaking to him instead of the elves, "I am going to cast a spell over you that will bind you. It is your job to try and break it. We shall all be working against you, is that agreeable?" He murmured his acquiescence.

Arya then yelled, "Hold him still," in the ancient language. He felt his body, except for his head, freeze. He relished this challenge to prove his strength, and whispered, "Lessen the pressure holding me in place," in the ancient language. He felt a curious feeling as the pressure began to lessen. He felt his energy drain from the effort. A minute went by, and the elves screwed their faces into expressions that told of an extreme pressure. Two minutes went by, and Eragon began to feel tired. Another half a minute and he felt exhausted as if he had sparred for hours on end with an equal opponent. Four minutes in, just as he began to feel like his legs would give out under him, the pressure completely disappeared. The elves all fell backwards, and slowly got back up to their feet.

He connected his mind back with Saphira's, and drew upon her vast reserves to steady himself and then passed the energy on to the elves, whom accepted thankfully his gift of strength. The look in their faces then, except for Arya whose remained expressionless, showed new admiration and respect for him. "What's next," he asked Arya. She gazed intently into his eyes for a while without answering, but when she finally did, she replied with, "Sword fighting." He dipped his head, and then went about guarding Brisingr's edges. When he was done, he noticed Arya and Blodhgarm advancing on him, swords drawn.

Everyone else on the field stopped what they were doing in order to watch the duel. Eragon let the duo attack first. He did not have to wait long, as they came swiftly in to confront him. He fought slowly at first, gradually picking up his pace as he discovered what he was capable of. He fought with a flurry of parries, jabs, and slashes, but never put more in the fight than the opposing elves could handle. At one point, however, he leaped backwards ten feet, deciding to finally really start the duel.

He watched their speed, accuracy, and teamwork with a sense of awe_. They must be connected in their minds._ When they came at him, Blodhgarm spun around, spinning his sword, and swung so closely to Arya that Eragon dreaded it would connect. It did not, and it flew onwards towards Eragon. Meanwhile, Arya swung her blade over her head, and down towards his own head. They were perfectly timed, and would both land at the exact same time, if Eragon didn't stop them. Moving Brisingr so that it was perpendicular to the ground, he struck out and deflected Blodhgarm's blade ever so slightly, and allowing Eragon to take a step to his right, out of range for the newly plotted course of Blodhgarm's blade by an inch. He was there, perfectly positioned, in time to adjust his gleaming blue sword so that it was parallel to the ground, and raised it over his head. As soon as the two blades contacted each other, Eragon jumped high into the air. The result was Arya's blade flying from her grip, following him into the air.

He flew thirty feet up, did a front flip, and during the flip, head pointed to the ground, he reached out and caught Arya's blade by the handle. He finished the jump, landing on the ground five feet behind the two elves, in a crouch, with his arms stretched wide holding the blades pointing outwards. There were gasps of astonishment from the gathered crowd, but Eragon didn't hear them; he was completely focused on the elves. The other eleven spell casters had drawn their own swords now, and someone had tossed Arya another.

This time he charged them, rolling his two blades over in his hands at a speed that made them a blur to the human eye. His opponents, however, were not human. They dashed around, dancing their blades with his, until it became a blur of motion that entirely consumed his concentration. Parry up, swing left, block right, and pivot 180 degrees, thrust with one blade parry with the other. Thusly the battle raged on for half an hour, every time Eragon would gain an advantage on a pair, another would draw his attention, forcing him to bounce away without taking his advantage.

His blows were cold and calculated, each and everyone hitting its mark, and in the end he would not be denied victory. He knocked one elf's blade out of his hands with Brisingr, spun around the elf kicked Blodhgarm in the back of his knees, and proceeded to twist his wrists at a profound angle so that he could block Arya's new blade, catching it in between his two. With another twist of his wrists, the blade flew free, and lodged itself into the ground some feet away.

The remaining two elves converged upon him, one from behind, and one in front of him. The one in front swung diagonally from up over his head coming down, aimed at Eragon's neck. The elf behind him swung his sword as a mirror image of the other, except he swung from low aiming up. Eragon quickly glanced over his shoulder, and saw his advantage. He waited until the blades were nigh upon there targets, before bending his stomach backwards, allowing the two blades two fly harmlessly, connecting with each other in the space of where his neck had been less than a second previously. The blades hung still where they had connected for a second too long, and Eragon, with his two blades crossed over his head, snapped straight up and spun in a quick circle on the balls of his feet, separating his blades to their respective sides during the maneuver. The blades wielded by the two elves, flew ten feet in opposite directions before landing handle up in the grass.

Eragon looked around, and for the first time since the duel began, he saw beyond the reach of his blades. A circle of over two hundred Varden were watching, all with eyes glazed over in awe. In the circle were the twelve spell casters of the elves and their princess, all kneeling on the ground, weaponless, catching their breaths. He sensed Saphira was standing alone on a hilltop near the sparring fields, watching and protecting him. He alone was standing on his feet inside the circle, which made him shuffle with unease. Then, a roar of cheering went up among the onlookers, praising Eragon's prowess on the sparring field. He ignored them, however, and looked for Arya. He spotted her on the inner edge of the circle, kneeling to catch her breath. He bowed his head, and humbly walked up to her, his arm outstretched offering her back her sword, which he had used during the sparring match. She glanced up at him, an expression of sheer joy on her face, which only served to confuse Eragon. She accepted the blade, stood up, and a great cheer went up among the assembled as she proclaimed,

"We now have the means to win this war! Not ever Galbatorix himself can defeat our rider Eragon and his dragon Saphira!" Her statements made Eragon blush, but they filled him with pride nonetheless. His mood was soured, though, as he thought, _I am strong, but Galbatorix is still stronger_.

_Enjoy yourself now, Eragon, for later we shall worry about Galbatorix. Rejoice and be happy, you have been blessed!_ Obeying Saphira, Eragon laughed and joked with his friends for an hour, upon the completion of which he tactfully dismissed himself, and went to his tent.

It was nearly dark when he arrived there, Saphira already waiting for him outside the tent, so he walked over, lay by her side, and entered his state of waking dreams. During which, he pondered all of the events of that day: he had gotten up, got an assignment to steal the last dragon egg, been gifted with incredible powers from Glaedr, proved stronger than thirteen of the most powerful elves in all aspects of combat, given hope to thousands, and gone to bed. _All in all, it was a fairly uneventful day._

******

Eragon woke an hour before dawn. When he completed his morning abulitions, he set off with Saphira towards the designated spot outside of camp. There they found Arya and Nasuada awaiting them. A few quick, short words were said, then, not wanting to tarry any longer, Arya climbed onto Saphira. She wrapped an arm around Eragon to hold herself in place, which made Eragon blush, and they took off in secret. They flew now towards the third egg, and the glorious number of victories that lay beyond!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5, A vision

They flew the whole day through, without a single respite. Eragon and Arya ate in the saddle, and Saphira had gone hunting two days ago; she was still digesting her venison feast. Eragon had all but forgotten about the night he awoke from his slumber forced upon him, in a way, by Arianna's magic. He decided against bringing it up, however, as it could make for an exceedingly awkward trip. During the flight, few words were exchanged, and all of them between Saphira and Eragon.

They landed at nightfall, and made camp along the Jiet River. After camp was made, and dinner eaten, Eragon tried to get Arya to talk about her childhood. She had just begun to tell him about Evandar, her father, when it happened. Pain, the likes of which he hadn't felt since the Aegeiti Blodhren, came barreling into his mind. The pain was so strong that it forced him unconscious. Arya's beautiful face staring down at him, a concerned look in her eyes, was the last thing he saw before the darkness took him.

White, pure white. This was all Eragon could see, in every direction, when he finally opened his eyes. He stood up, and looked around, but still there was nothing to be seen but the all encompassing whiteness. Suddenly, his legs locked, and he was unable to move them even an inch despite his best efforts to thwart the force keeping him still. He tried to reach for magic to allow him to move his legs again, but couldn't find the flow of magic necessary to use gramarye. He started to panic, when a green orb suddenly appeared floating in the air a few feet in front of him. He stared into the orb, and noticed that it was an amazingly perfect emerald shade of green. He quickly became entranced in the depths of green floating in front of him.

He would have happily stayed all eternity gazing into the orb, when two other colors unexpectedly appeared. Off to the left of the emerald orb, lay mile upon mile of the darkest black. It stretched on further than the eye could see, and it seemed to emit anger, terror, grief, misery, and, above all else, evil. It made Eragon shudder just looking at it. To the right, however, lay a brilliant shade of azure blue. Though it was not nearly as large as the vacuum of black on the other side, it was many times more magnificent, and it exuded an aura of strength, joy, security, and an underlying aura of goodness. He watched the colors in simple awe, so simple yet wondrous, each the perfect embodiment of those emotions they exude. Then, quite abruptly, a fourth color appeared amongst the ranks of the black; ruby red. It flickered throughout the black, appearing as flames dancing in the night.

Without warning, the two sides raced towards the emerald orb. The black and red beat the blue, and engulfed the green orb in a sea of darkness and flickering flames. Seconds later, the azure blue color crashed into the opposing colors, giving Eragon the distinct impression that they were battling. After a few minutes, the black was washed back a ways, and the emerald orb was now surrounded by blue. After a few more minutes of the colors colliding, all traces of the red flames were washed away. Despite trying to be a neutral observer, Eragon found himself fervently hoping for the blue to defeat the black in what he was now sure was a battle. For several minutes, so it felt like to Eragon, the two colors remained locked together. In a flurry of last second motion, the black wiped out and covered most of the blue, leaving only a shadow of its former glory behind. The black, on the other hand, still retained most of its size, though now it has a faint bluish glow around the edges. The pain returned then, and Eragon once again writhed on the floor under the force of the mind splitting pain. While on the floor unconsciousness was granted to him, and he succumbed to the blackness.

When he awoke he found himself back in Alagaesea. Slowly, he opened his eyes to reveal the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and for a second he thought that he truly had died, but then he recognized the face._ Arya_. She was leaning over him, a concerned look in her eyes, but nevertheless she seemed to radiate with happiness that he was waking up. His stomach did a flip as he looked into her deep emerald green eyes.

"_Eragon!"_ This came at him from two different sources, one vocalized, the other thought. He smiled slightly to himself as he realized how concerned they were for him.

_What happened, little one? You spent half an hour convulsing on the ground! We couldn't stop you, and when I tried to enter your mind to help and see what you saw, you blocked me out with a force both Arya's and my mind couldn't break!_ She allowed him to feel how worried she was for him. He let his love and appreciation for her flow through the link before responding.

"_I love you."_ That softened her resolve a little bit, and she replied,

_I love you too, little one, but what bothered you just then? _

"_I just had a vision, Saphira, but I can't make heads or tails of it. Would you help me, O partner of my heart and mind?" _Her willingness to help flowed through their link, and so he showed her his memory of the vision. When it was over, her statement was simple.

_I have my beliefs as to what it means, but I will keep them to myself until after you show Arya, and get her response._ At those words, he turned his concentration back to the physical world, and noticed that he was still lying on his back, with Arya still kneeling over him.

"Arya," he let that stand alone, waiting for a response. He didn't have to wait long; however, as her response came almost immediately after he finished speaking.

"What happened, Eragon? Are you all right?" a hint of worry floundered throughout her otherwise normal, melodic tone.

"I am fine, Arya. I appreciate your concern." He tried to make his tone soft, and reassuring, but he wasn't sure he succeeded. He stared up at her for a long moment to gauge her reaction, getting lost in the endless depths of her perfectly crafted emerald eyes as a result. It took a mental nudge from Saphira to save him from forgetting himself completely in their enchanting gaze. "Arya, I had another vision whilst I was unconscious." There was a momentary flicker of surprise in her mien before it was hidden behind an expressionless mask.

"What about?" Her words seemed to flow together, weaving in perfect melody with her voice, but yet Eragon could sense some disturbance in her tone.

"I could tell you, but it would be both easier and faster if I were to show you. May I?" She granted him permission to enter her mind, and so he showed her the same memory that he had shown Saphira not five minutes before. Upon the completion of the memory, she stood up, paced to the edge of camp and back, and repeated for about five minutes. She then promptly sat down in front of him, crossed her legs, and rested her hands in her lap.

"Do you truly wish to know what I believe this vision to mean?" He nodded his ascent as he responded,

"Yes, please tell me, as I know not what it means, nor shall Saphira tell me her opinions until I hear from you about it."

There was a deep seated pain in her eyes as she spoke, the agony which was amplified by the voice she used, which was of one who carries the weight of the world on their shoulders, and knows that they shall surely fail. "I believe that the green orb you saw was the last dragon egg. Therefore I am led to believe that the blackness you saw was Galbatorix. Assuming that to be accurate, the ruby color must have been Murtagh, leaving the azure shade to be, if I am correct, you."

His general agreement went out through his link to Saphira, _That makes sense, but why does she look so…distraught._ It was unusual for the Elf to show any emotion whatsoever, and while you had to know her well to be able to tell, the sight disturbed and frightened Eragon, if only a little. He understood her show of emotion, however, as she continued, "It is my belief that the three of you are destined to fight over the egg, and during the fight, Murtagh will be killed, along with Thorn," surprise flashed in his mind first, then acceptance a few moments after. _If he fights, I will be forced to release him from Galbatorix, and right now death seems to be the only option. I wish it wouldn't come to this, but I shall do what I must._

Arya continued then, interrupting his thoughts, her voice began sounding graver with every passing syllable. "At the end of the fight, Galbatorix shall be victorious, and either you or Saphira will die." A single pear-shaped tear rolled down her flawless cheek, and dropped to the ground with an unnaturally loud splash. This, along with her foretelling, shocked Eragon to the very core of his being, and as such he was inhibited from anything other than standing, mouth gaping, staring at Arya as she finished speaking. "I swear to you, I shall not allow this Wyrda to come to pass."

For a fraction of a second, Eragon noticed a strange, unfamiliar look in her eyes. It didn't last long, for when that moment was gone, so was the unfamiliar look, hidden behind an expressionless mask, void of emotions. It reminded him of the look she gave him when he had awoken in her tent after days of unconsciousness.* They stared deep into each others eyes for a long moment that stretched on towards infinity, but in the end Eragon gave a curt nod of acknowledgement and turned away. "What do you think, Saphira?" He spoke aloud so Arya could hear as well.

_In this, as with most things, I believed Arya has proven her wisdom. _She broadcasted her response to the both of them. Arya dipped her head, accepting the compliment, but with the way she held her countenance showed that she wished she was wrong. Saphira continued on, this time speaking only to Eragon, _Personally, I have a different opinion as to the identity of the green orb in your vision, but I shall keep my belief of what it is to myself._

_ Come on, Saphira; tell me what it is you believe._

_ No, Little one, in this instance it would be best to keep my knowledge to myself._

Unsatisfied, and a little annoyed by her answer, Eragon tried to sneak through her mind to find the answer himself. Suddenly, a brick wall slammed into his consciousness, preventing him movement, but not harming him. _Little one, I don't appreciate you snooping around my mind when you clearly know that I don't want to tell you something._

_ Why won't you tell me?_ She responded only with a mental growl. "I love you, Saphira_._" Her gaze softened, if only slightly.

I _love you too, Little one, but I am not going to tell you._ With that Eragon grumbled, but pulled his focus back to the physical world. He noticed instantly that Arya was staring intently at him, a slight questioning and searching look on her face. It was only then that he realized he had said that last part out loud. He blushed slightly, and turned away from her intense gaze. After a minute she quit studying him, and they just gazed at the campfire flames as they smoldered and danced in the air. While watching the fire, a distressing question entered his head, so he vocalized it.

"Are we still going to continue to try and confiscate the egg? We need it, for we cannot win if the egg hatches for another under the Black Kings control, but how far are we willing to go for it? I for one believe that Saphira's life is far more important than obtaining the third egg."

Again Arya stared at Eragon, her eyes boring holes to his very soul, whilst she pondered her answer.

When finally she replied, it was slowly and carefully, as if her life depended on giving the most precise answer that she could. "We should continue our quest for the egg, as we may never have another chance like this. However, if Galbatorix is there guarding the egg, we shall flee; hoping Saphira can out fly Shruikan, to the Elvin army at Gil'ead. There we shall stand our best chance at defeating him, at least temporarily. If he is not there guarding the egg, we shall proceed as planned." A slight sparkle appeared in her eyes as she continued. "You're right, Saphira's and your lives are much more important than the success of this mission. If the Black King himself is to appear, then flee and turn back for nothing!" Eragon was more than a little confused by her unusual behavior, but still dipped his head to show his acknowledgement of her words.

Eragon finally sat up and, for an unmeasured period of time, simply sat beside Arya, thinking about his upcoming battle. He began to despair over the knowledge that, when they fought Galbatorix, either he or Saphira would die. He tried to hide it, but Arya proved that she knew him too well, and saw right through his attempted emotionless façade. He was surprised he felt her hand on his, but was happy nonetheless. Eragon could feel Saphira purr with contentment in the background. Eventually Arya declared that it was late and she needed rest, so she retired to one side of Saphira, Eragon eventually taking the other.

***Chapter 2**

**I am sorry this took so long, and I shall probably not finish the story, but I might publish a few more chapters. My counterpart elven friend persuaded me to put this up. At the very least one more chapter to go.**


	6. Chapter 6

The rest of the trip to Dras Leona was fairly uneventful, and no one decided to bring up Eragon's vision again. As they arrived near the city, still high in the air on Saphira, Eragon managed to glimpse the massive cathedral made to resemble the peaks of Helgrind, the black monolith dominating the area. That glimpse sent the memories of the two previous trips he had taken here: once when Brom and he had come searching for the Ra'zac, ending in Brom's death, and when he came with Roran to rescue Katrina. The mixed feelings brought about by these memories clouded his perceptions as Saphira touched down in a clearing some distance away from the city. They set up camp and ate a cold meal, not wanting to alert anyone of their presence. Arya took first watch, and Eragon, still battling the bittersweet memories of this place, lied down next to Saphira. His waking dreams swiftly found him.

He awoke at dawn, and noticed with more than a passing interest that Arya was up as well. He briefly wondered if she had been awake all night, but then noticed Saphira was asleep and assumed that the two had taken turns with the watch last night. He sat, with his back propped against Saphira, and just stared at his elven traveling companion for awhile. She was so beautiful, standing at the edge of their camp watching the sun rise, dark hair falling gracefully around to frame her face. Her green eyes reflected the bright light of the first bits of sunshine to rain upon Alagaesia that day, leaving the remaining light to shine down on her like a halo from the heavens above. He wanted nothing more than to stride over and take her into his arms, embrace her in the warming light of day. _Ah, but I can't! To do so would disturb the fragile friendship that I so covet_. Reluctantly resigned to his fate, he settled on simply watching her, devoting to memory every aspect of her features in the favorable light.

A brief while later she noticed that he was awake. She flashed him a brief smile, too brief for Eragon who so enjoyed those fleeting jewels, and sat down next to him. Despite his efforts, his stomach still insisted on flipping when she sat by him, shoulders nearly touching, a fact not missed by Eragon or his stomach. She turned her head and looked straight at his eyes, emerald green orbs that seemed to pierce into his very soul. They sat like that for uncounted moments; it could have been a whole age of the world for all he knew, before she broke the silence. "Good morning, Eragon, I trust that you are feeling well this morning?"

"Good morning, and aye, I am fine. How are you?"

"I am well…There is something I wish to say." She hesitated for a while after that, which puzzled him. She appeared to be debating with herself about whether to tell him or not.

"Say what you want, Arya, I would love to hear what you wish to say." He was trying to keep his tone a reassuring as possible, and it seemed to work, for she stopped her internal debate.

"I just want to say…I mean I wish... Don't let Galbatorix kill you. Wiol pomnuria ilian." He looked down from her eyes for a moment, spotted her hand, and slipped his over it. He raised his gaze back to hers, and gave a slight, reassuring squeeze.

"Wiol ono." His face broke into a grin, and she smiled slightly back. She leaned her shoulder against his, and they sat there in a companionable silence all the way up until it became time to leave.

Saphira released a jet of flame towards the city, a challenge to any who would dare oppose her. Eragon sat on her back, in full battle attire, with Brisingr held high over his head bellowing out its own challenge in flames. This challenge differed from Saphira's, as his was aimed solely at his half brother and the red dragon to whom he was bonded. He took a quick look down to where Arya was infiltrating the city using his distraction. A smile came to his face as he thought of their plan. First he was to make a loud arrival over the city on Saphira. _Check_. Then, Arya was supposed to sneak into the city. _Check_. Next, Murtagh was supposed to fly out astride Thorn to fight off Saphira and himself, during which time Arya infiltrates Murtagh's temporary living quarters and search for the egg. If it is not there Eragon is supposed to take it from Murtagh, _no easy deed in and of itself_. Finally, they meet up and fly back to the Varden. _Sadly, things rarely go according to the plan_.

_There they are, little one, coming out of Helgrind_. Eragon turned in his seat to see Saphira's statement confirmed. The sun's rays bounced exquisitely off of Thorn's ruby red scales. On his back, as expected, rode Murtagh dressed in his fine black armor.

_Murtagh_, he spat the name across their link as a curse. Logically he knew that Murtagh was being forced by Galbatorix to commit atrocities, and yet so soon after the demise of Oromis he felt a burning anger fill him at the sight of the spawn of Morzan.

_Today we are strong enough to defeat them. What will you do, little one, if we have them defenseless?_

_If necessary, I shall relieve him of his duty possessing the egg, and then I shall leave him to go fleeing back helpless to his master with the tale of our strength upon his lips. I do not wish to kill him_, he admitted to Saphira_, but if it comes down to it I will._

_Always remember that we may yet lose; we approach them, are you ready to fight?_

_Are we one, partner of my heart and mind?_

_We are one._

_Then there is your answer._ He just finished the thought when Saphira met Thorn head on, nearly shaking Eragon from the saddle. As the dragons grappled and engaged in their aerobatic duel, Eragon noticed that Thorn had been completely healed from his victory over Glaedr, including the tail, and it also remarkably appeared that he had undergone another growth spurt, making him just about Saphira's size. With his newly enhanced senses the battle took another feeling altogether for Eragon. Everything was immensely lucid, and he could feel the movements of the dragons before they would even attempt the maneuvers. He relished in the feeling, and now knew beyond a doubt that he would prevail against Murtagh when it came to that. Saphira was out flying Thorn, but due to the crimson dragon's extreme strength he was able to keep her at bay. For a few minutes they continued trying to get some part of their opponent into their strong jaw, and fire was spewed several times but due to magical wards it was also deflected, neither appeared able to prevail in this type of contest anytime soon.

_Saphira, let me down over there_, he sent her a mental image o a small hill about a mile east of their position, _so I can get defeat Murtagh myself. I can't take advantage of Glaedr's gifts from up here._ She gave him a mental nod, and flew away from Thorn, as soon as the opportunity presented itself, to the hill that Eragon had pointed out. The blood dragon quickly gave pursuit, but was unable to stop here from getting farther away. As she swooped past it, Eragon dropped from her back and fell the thousand feet to the top of the hill. He intoned a weak spell to slow his fall, but took the main brunt of it in a roll, using the golden dragon's given strength to prevent injury.

Eragon positioned himself in the center of the hill and waited for Murtagh. Thorn was close behind Saphira, though, making his wait short, and soon Murtagh dropped from Thorn in much the same fashion as he did. His spell took away his speed completely, however, putting his feet lightly on the ground. Morzan's son strode up about a meter away from Brom's son, Zar'roc in hand, and yelled "What are you trying to do, Brother, you can't defeat me. My strength has increased tenfold since we last fought, and now you don't even have your precious elves to back you up." His mask was on, but Eragon got the distinctive impression that there was a cocky smirk on Murtagh's face. He was mildly surprised that Murtagh knew about Blodhgarm and his guards, but it quickly faded.

He too had a trick to play, one Murtagh most assuredly would not be expecting, and so it was with a grin that he responded to his opponent. "You mean half-brother, for while we did indeed share Selena as a common mother, Morzan was no sire of mine. Brom was my father, rider of my dragon's namesake, and I assure you I shall be more than a match for you." For the smallest moment Murtagh hesitated, shocked by the news apparently. Then he gave a feral, animalistic growl and swung Zar'roc across at Eragon's head. If Eragon had been the same as he was the last time they dueled, the ferocious attack would have decapitated him. As he was now, the swing appeared sluggish, and he easily parried it. Deciding to toy with Murtagh, he just played defensive for several minutes. Fifteen minutes went by and he hadn't broken a sweat, while Murtagh was visibly beginning to tire. The strength from his eldunari diminished with distance, and Saphira was constantly leading Thorn straight up into and above the clouds, but at a place where a dive back to the hill would be easily obtained. They fought viscously up there, trying to beat the other into submission. Several times Eragon felt tiny pains shoot through his body where Saphira would get nicked by a talon or tooth. She had the advantage at the moment, being above Thorn, and was buffeting him with her wings, biting, and scratching with her talons. She wasn't scoring any real hits, however, and the fight began to even out again.

It wasn't until Arya contacted his mind to tell him that the egg wasn't in the living quarters that Eragon started actually fighting. He parried a thrust from Murtagh, beat Zar'roc out to the side, and then kicked him in the chest. Murtagh slid back a couple of feet, but managed to stay on his feet. Eragon sprang across the distance like a gazelle, Brisingr whirling through the air faster than the human eye could see. Murtagh managed to block the strike, but couldn't put up a counter as Brisingr spun back in, again and again. Eragon feigned a jab to the left, and then swung right. He managed a cut on Murtagh's shoulder. Murtagh then surprised Eragon by attempting to dive over him. Eragon simply leapt straight up, his helm ramming into Murtagh's armored stomach. Then, in mid air, he grabbed Murtagh's cuirass with one hand, the other slashed with his still flaming sword, cleanly chopping Murtagh's sword hand off. He dropped Brisingr off to the side, the magical flames dying, and positioned Murtagh underneath him as they fell the thirty feet back to the ground.

They hit with a sickening crunch, followed by the red rider's anguished scream due to his lost hand. Eragon stood up and began moving towards Thorn's saddle bags, which Saphira just a moment before had cut loose with her sharp talons, when the screams subsided. Before he could wonder about it, the sound of Murtagh's rough voice cut the air, "Malithnae". He froze instantly, and Murtagh walked up, a triumphant grin showing on his face, newly exposed out from under his helm. He turned to where his hand had fallen, walked over to it, and placed it on his stump of a wrist. A whispered spell later and his hand appeared healed, fully functional, and gripping now for the red blade that it has recently become so familiar with. He moved back to Eragon, "I see you're not as strong as you boast, _Half_-brother. This time, however, I cannot let you go free; you are going back to Uru'Baen with me."

Eragon merely spat at this, and then responded, "I don't believe that I'll be going with you at all." He chuckled and then intoned a spell in the ancient language, one that would lessen the magic that binds him. His palm began glowing silver and, the newly acquired, gold. Their strength was now put to the test: an extremely enhanced elf-human hybrid versus a full human with several eldunarya aiding him. One minute passed and a vein began bulging on his temple. Two minutes, sweat became increasingly visible on his brow. It continued this way for a few more minutes, until the spell was completely lifted and Murtagh fell down from exhaustion. Eragon too was tired, defeating several eldunari and Murtagh's considerable magical strength tended to take a toll on people, and now all of his limbs were shaking uncontrollably. He dropped a hand to his belt, and the energy within the diamonds of the belt sufficiently steadied and recovered him.

When this was completed, he cast a spell of binding over Murtagh, though likely unnecessary due to him being currently unconscious, and walked over to Thorn's saddle bags. He opened one of the bags, pulled out a spherical package, and opened it up. There, in his very own hands, set the last dragon egg in all of Alagaesia. He eventually looked up away from its emerald beauty, reminding him fondly of two very similar orbs, to find Thorn still battling with Saphira up in the sky. _Murtagh must have sensed defeat and disconnected Thorn from their mental link_. With a twinge of guilt that he hadn't remembered their battle, he cast a spell to bind Thorn, and lowered him to the ground. Saphira swooped down to join him, and he presented her the egg. Their minds meshed fully once more, emotions running freely across their bond. He leapt onto her, egg still in hand, and smiled. _It all went according to plan._

Off in the distance, hidden by magic, stood a tall and handsome man with eyes the color of the purest obsidian. Those cold, black orbs were the only thing that betrayed his evil. Beside him stood a midnight black dragon that was as large as a small mountain, its muscles rippled under the dark scales. They watched intently the fight on the hill, and the man stroked his well trimmed beard often. When Eragon took the egg and flew off, the man laughed, a terrible, deep throated laugh that seemed to reverberate off his dragons scales._ It was all going according to plan._


	7. Chapter 7

**Authors note: Well, it's been a while since I last updated, and even longer since I began this macabre attempt at a story. I hope that some of you are still reading this, despite the wait. I know I have been extremely hypocritical, chastising others for not updating when I myself near the two year milestone, with this being only my seventh chapter! Tell me what you think of this story, if enough people still like it then I will continue, for a couple more chapters at least. If not, well this chapter ends in a fairly decent spot; I could foresee ending the story here. Regardless, I will finish before **_**Inheritance **_**comes out. On a random note, I am now a senior in high school. All six chapters preceding this one were written in the summer after my freshman year (the summer I first uploaded a chapter), they just took me a while to type. This one I just wrote last week, however, so I'll be interested to see if you can notice any change in my writing style. **

**Well by far the longest chapter (and author's note for that matter) I have ever written. Please review.**

Eragon looked across the campsite to where his traveling companion, Arya, sat with the emerald egg in her lap. She slowly caressed it with her fingertips, tracing the lines of the marble colored veins that ran through it. Eragon was completely enamored by the sight, and couldn't manage to draw his eyes off of it. Her own eyes, a dark green that currently held a strange glint to them as she stared, completely focused, on the dragon's egg. Eragon noticed that her eyes and the egg were precisely the same shade of green. Eragon felt a shiver go down his spine. He leaned back to rest more fully on Saphira, letting his head come to rest on one of her sapphire scales.

They were almost back to the Varden now, only half a day's easy flight separated them, but the decision to make camp at the first sign of dusk had been unanimous. Arya had, in fact, been the one to present the idea. It was, as she had said, to ensure that they appeared healthy and well rested when the Varden's populace saw them, to keep up the image of strength and success. Eragon couldn't help but agree with her, as he couldn't help but think that she looked particularly beautiful with the silver moonlight shining through her midnight tresses. He looked back to her hands, still caressing the recently rescued egg, and thought absentmindedly; _Wouldn't it be great if Arya became the next rider?_

_Oh yes, I'm sure you'd love that, _came Saphira's sarcastic reply, bringing a slight blush to his face.

_I'm serious, she would be perfect. She is already trained in magic, she is an excellent swordfighter, she loves dragons, she…_

_Is very pretty._ Eragon blushed even more at her interruption. Yes, of course he had thought about how their relationship might change if she became the next rider. In fact, he'd been thinking quite a lot about that since he'd captured the egg. Would she be more likely to return his affections if she had her own dragon? He could, and often did, hope.

_Yes, and I'm sure you wouldn't care if a __**male**__ dragon hatched for Arya, now would you? _That quieted Saphira. Eragon knew she'd felt even more lonely after Glaedr died that she had before, and as much as he had been thinking about Arya, he knew his dragon had been thinking about the male residing within the egg even more. He let the conversation lapse into a contemplative silence, and patted her on the neck reassuringly.

The next morning, as they got ready to leave for the Varden, Eragon felt a cold chill on the air. Winter is about to begin, he mused. That single thought stopped him in his tracks. Winter. One year before, he had been not but a farmer, hunting for deer meat to feed his family. Then on a fated day at the beginning of last winter, an explosion shook the glade and the rest of his life. The magnitude of everything that had befallen him, changed in him, during that _one_ year astounded him. Saphira gave him a mental nudge, and he resumed packing.

Something was off, disturbed. The universe felt for a brief moment like it was hiding something, but only for a moment. Eragon checked his leg straps, making sure they were secure, and then checked Arya's. He felt her hands wrapped softly around his abdomen. He searched the sky, but couldn't find anything. Saphira flapped her wings lazily below him. He stretched his mind wide, connecting with Saphira and Arya more acutely. _Did you feel something?_

_No,_ replied Arya, slight confusion seeping through her mind. Saphira's reply was similar. _What's wrong?_ Eragon slightly berated himself for allowing his concern and confusion to slip through the connection. He was about to reply, and dismiss it as nothing, when a figure streaked across his peripheral vision. Then, as if waiting to be seen before heard, low thumps echoed throughout the air. The sounds, probably originally masked by Saphira's own wing beats, went to an entirely different rhythm. He turned his head and saw a red dragon winging its way towards them.

The sight of Thorn, however, was overshadowed completely by the appearance of a second, much larger dragon. The black dragon came out of the clouds to fly by Thorn, easily dwarfing him several times over.

_Shruikan! Galbatorix himself is chasing after us! Quick, Saphira fly as fast to Fienster as you can._ Saphira turned her head to see them for herself, roared at the cursed-egg-breaker, and then started flying as fast as possible towards the Varden. The elves in Gil'ead were too far away, so their only chance was to make it to the spell casters residing within the Varden; namely Blohdgarm and the elven guards. Eragon remembered the last time, not long ago, when he had faced Murtagh. It had tired him greatly to defeat his brother and his eldunari, now there are likely to be twice as many, if not more, heart of hearts to overcome, not to mention Galbatorix himself. He rashly wished now that he had killed Murtagh when he had the chance, as he would need every bit of his improved strength to beat Galbatorix, if that were even possible.

They were nearing the city, about three miles away from the walls of Fienster, when Eragon realized that the slight pressure on his abdomen was gone. Panicked, Eragon completely swiveled around in the saddle. Gone! She's gone! Saphira, where is Arya?

I don't know… Last thing I remember was she was on my back, and then now she is gone. Thorn and Shruikan, obviously aided by eldunari, were only a few hundred meters away now, and gaining steadily on Saphira. Eragon was unwilling to connect to Blohdgarm, to warn the Varden, for such an act would leave him open to a mental assault from the too near dark king. It soon became obvious to Eragon, however, that they recognized the peril, as he could see them begin to form ranks in anticipation of battle. His eyes found Blohdgarm and the elves, and saw that they were sprinting towards him, bows in hand. Just then, a loud, deep, magically enhanced voice split the air from behind.

"Enough fleeing, rebel. Turn around and see what my power has taken from you." Eragon looked back, and saw clearly Arya sitting in front of Galbatorix, a dagger held firmly against her throat. _Saphira, turn around!_ She could see what had happened through his mind, and was all too eager to comply. With a roar, she flipped around and dove straight for the black behemoth.

Blind fury drove Saphira, most of it seeping through their bond from Eragon. She rammed and raked, bit and blew torrents of flames, but nothing seemed to have any effect on Shruikan, and soon she was forced into retreat by Thorn, who flew up behind her scoring a nasty hit on her tail. Blood dropped in great globs, but Eragon healed it before substantial damage could be done. He drew Brisingr from its sheath; the blue blade shone bright with the light from the sun. Saphira flew back towards Shruikan, but this time when Thorn came from behind again Eragon stood steadily on her back and fended him off, tearing a gash on his ruby colored nose.

The fighting continued like this for a few minutes, before Eragon realized, after Saphira came out of a dive low to the ground chasing Shruikan, that Galbatorix had formed a magical dome over them. He saw the Elves reach the edge of it, confused, and then one reached out and noticed it was solid, though so transparent it was barely visible, like well cleaned glass. _None can enter, then, and I assume none can leave. For good or ill, this battle ends here, Saphira, and likely the war with it._

_Aye little one, it is as you say. Are you ready for this?_

_Are we one?_

_Aye, we are one._

_Then you have your answer. Set us down in the middle of the dome, please, as this areal combat is getting us nowhere._

_You're right. I don't think I have even hurt Shruikan or Thorn at all yet. _She landed in the middle of the ground under the dome. It was all flat, with short grass. The terrain wouldn't factor in much to the upcoming battle. The dome had a diameter, at ground level, of about four hundred yards. It was taller than it was wide, which would give the dragons slightly more room to maneuver. Eragon was shaken from his thoughts as Thorn and Shruikan landed, their riders dismounting a hundred yards away from his current position. He noticed alarmingly that Arya was no longer in their presence. He looked around worriedly, then saw her outside of the dome, among his elven guards, attempting, with no success, to destroy the transparent dome. The Varden began to rally around the elves, and then set to surrounding the dome completely. _Apparently, this battle would be a show,_ he mused. He picked Nasuada out of the crowd, astride her battle charger, next to a man pounding furiously at the relentless wall with a hammer. Roran. _Well, at least they will be safe_, he told Saphira.

_Yes, little one. Listen to me, if we lose here today, Galbatorix will annihilate the Varden. I love you little one, and we can not let that happen. He stroked her neck lovingly for a moment._

_I love you too, O partner of my soul. Let us finish this task that we have started, for Alagaesia_. She sent her agreement to him in the form of pure emotions.

Galbatorix was ten feet away now, Murtagh following him like a dog. He let out booming laugh, one befit for a gracious king, not the evil one he is. His appearance, too, was deceiving, for he looked like a handsome man in his mid forties. Wisdom seemed to shine from his face, eyes in particular, and strength was exuded from his powerful, yet not bulky, physique.

"Eragon, a pleasure to finally meet you. I am King Galbatorix, as you no doubt already know. As you saw, I returned your wondrous elf to your allies, quite unharmed, I assure you. Now, why are we fighting?" His deep, honey laced voice almost fooled Eragon into thinking that maybe, possibly, he had been wrong about the king. Then he remembered Garrow, Brom, Ajihad, and finally Oromis. He remembered how Galbatorix, through Murtagh, slew his master, and his will was solidified.

"You, Galbatorix," he spat the name like a curse, "are a murderer and a traitor. That is why we fight!" The offense showing on the king's face appeared genuine.

"Why, I have never murdered anyone! The elves have addled your brain, son. How am I the traitor? Through their oppressive hold the Dragon Riders of old were strangling Alagaesia! I rescued the commoners from their grasps."

"Liar! You are the oath breaker, the man who has slaughtered more innocents, directly or indirectly, than can be counted. "

"Lies and untruths all. If you pledge to serve me, I will show you the folly of your ways." Behind Galbatorix, Murtagh shook his head once, and so slightly even an elf would have missed it, but it was all too clear a sign for Eragon. With a great roar of, "No!", Eragon leapt towards the dark king, Brisingr aimed for the heart. Zar'roc darted forward and blocked it. "Very well, you have chosen your fate." The words fell on Eragon's ears like a commandment, and he got the distinct feeling that he would never see the next sunrise.

The monster that was Galbatorix slowly drew his charcoal black sword from its sheath. Eragon backed up a step and took a moment to gaze in wonder at the blade. Obviously a Rider's sword of old, the brightsteel seemed to suck all the light out of its surroundings. Down the length of the dark blade ran lightning bolts of the purest white, running all the way from the crossguard, shaped like a giant cloud, to the tip. The jewel set in the pommel was a pearl like gem, with light radiating dully from it. _He has an eldunari set in the pommel of his sword!_ Saphira's reply to his mental statement came in the form of an extremely loud roar, waves of contempt radiating through their link for the man standing in front of them. She went airborne, her powerful legs throwing her high off the ground. Thorn and Shruikan followed suit.

Murtagh circled around Eragon. The blue rider watched his opponents, waiting for one to strike first. The expected attack came from Murtagh, who ran in with Zar'roc held high. Out darted Brisingr, cleanly blocking the powerful strike. Eragon silently thanked Glaedr a moment later, for Galbatorix came in at his exposed back with enough speed to slay an elf. A twist, parry, and roll later, and Eragon had managed to get both of his opponents in front of him. He attacked relentlessly. Every blow was strong enough to crush stone with ease. Every swing was faster than the eye, elf or human, could see. Yet every attack was blocked.

Eragon was unwilling to give up the offense, for he knew that he wouldn't be able to win with a defensive strategy. He weaved a web of pure brightsteel in front of him, always attempting to slip past the defensive parries of his enemies. He feinted towards Galbatorix, spun around and slashed at Murtagh, then leaped up and flipped over the king, slashing at his helm while in the air, and landed behind him. The attacks were soundly blocked. He ducked into a crouch, Zar'roc whipped through the air over his head, he pivoted around, and slashed low at the king's feet. Galbatorix leapt over Brisingr, taunting Eragon with the ease of his dodge. Eragon tucked into a roll, popped up on his feet right beside Murtagh, and thrusted hard. Murtagh twisted around the blue blade. Misery darted in to capitalize on the miss, but a twist and roll had Eragon around to the other side of Galbatorix before the strike ever got close.

The black blade came in at him in a mid level slash, but Eragon saw it for the feint it was, and had the appropriate block ready for the reversed grip slash aimed at his head. Brisingr clashed loudly with the enemy sword, sparks flying off, stunning Murtagh as they hit him in the face. The blue rider took a step forward, and from this position was able to see the glyph adorning the black handle. Deyja, a fitting name for the sword of Galbatorix.

His moment of distraction cost him, as he flew backwards at the end of a metal gauntlet. He tucked into a backwards roll, managed to keep a hold of Brisingr, and rose shakily to his feet. Not willing to risk magic on a non-life threatening injury, he quickly snapped his broken nose back into place. The sheer pain of the action brought tears to his eyes, and he could hear Saphira issue a roar of shared pain. Through blurry eyes he deflected both Zar'roc and Deyja, but they forced him back a few steps. For about thirty seconds, he was fighting blind off of instincts. When his eyes cleared, he had a small cut adorning his left arm that he hadn't been able to block fully. First blood goes to Galbatorix. He saw Murtagh drop into a spinning crouch, his red blade out wide, coming within an inch of Galbatorix's armored stomach. Galbatorix led with a sweeping thrust at his face. Eragon lunged into the air between the two blades, twisted to avoid them fully, and scored a poke on Murtagh's outstretched shoulder as he flew by. He landed in a roll, pivoted to face his opponents, and then leaped high into the air.

The Empire's riders stood with confused looks on their faces. Eragon had jumped passed them, but by the time they whirled around he was nowhere to be seen. Galbatorix first heard the slight whooshing sound on the air, and looked up just in time to see the tip of a blue sword sailing fast for his helm. He rolled away, but got nicked on the rump for his efforts. Murtagh was caught completely off guard, and was lucky Brisingr was busy stinging his master, but was thrown, dazed, to the ground by the vicious punch landed by Eragon the moment before his feet touched the ground.

The moment the hit landed, Eragon knew Murtagh would be out of the action for a while. So, one problem momentarily taken care of, he spun to face Galbatorix head on. "Your tough, boy, I'll give you that. By my side you could rule the world!" Eragon ignored him, and dashed the distance between them faster than a speeding arrow, and slashed upwards with Brisingr. Galbatorix blocked the strike, but when Brisingr suddenly burst into flames he was caught off guard, never seeing the kick Eragon sent his way. It connected solidly with the back of his knees, and Galbatorix fell forwards onto his face. The move allowed Eragon an opportunity to strike fast for the evil king's vulnerable neck, but a sudden pain in his back stopped him and quenched Brisingr's flames.

Saphira was more than outmatched from the outset, but she refused to be daunted. She could outfly either Thorn or Shruikan with the wisdom imparted to her by Glaedr's sacrifice, but not both at the same time. They complemented each other's every move, and wouldn't allow her an opportunity to face one at a time. Neither was she stronger than them, even Thorn was more muscled than her, and Shruikan simply dwarfed her in size and strength. She struck fast, talons a blur, then resumed flying around the edge of the dome. She dove at Shruikan, but Thorn came at her quickly, forcing her to fly away without connecting. She decided that she couldn't win this way, and so changed her strategy to just evading, not attacking, the other dragons. Eventually their formation would slip, and she would be able to wreck havoc on one of them without the other stopping her, but for now she simply avoided being harmed. Pain on her end would distract her pointy-ears-not-elf-rider, and she knew Eragon needed complete and total concentration if he was to survive.

She flew like this for several minutes, until she saw blood-red-scales-young-minded-Thorn descend suddenly in pain. Thinking to capitalize on his moment of weakness, she dove for him, talons outstretched. Suddenly, pain coursed through her back as Shruikan breathed flames on her delicate wings. She rolled away, twisted her head, and fired flame back at the mountain-black-dragon-Shruikan. The flames met in midair, and erupted in a blinding light. She flew away quickly to resume her evasive strategy.

Rolling back to his feet, Galbatorix let out a laugh and slashed at Eragon's exposed ribs. The gash that opened was large, but not immediately life threatening. Snapping back to attention, Eragon and Galbatorix crossed blades, dueling for an hour without either gaining the advantage. The gash on his ribs burned, and Eragon wished he had worn his armor. Scratches and bruises were dished out plentifully enough, but no real damage was done. Eragon had just completed a spinning parry when Murtagh reentered the fray.

Aided by Eldunari, Galbatorix and Murtagh weren't tiring very easily. Eragon himself was fatigued, but not enough to slow his strike. He gripped Brisingr with both hands, and sent it in a powerful arc, battering away Deyja and Zar'roc. He reversed his grip, and swung again, drawing twin scratches across Murtagh and Galbatorixs' cheeks. The battle continued.

Outside the dome, the Varden worked ferociously to bring down the wards and aid their outnumbered rider. Elves and magicians cast spells, men battered with hammers and rams, Urgals charged it with their horns, but nothing came close to even denting the magical boundary. Only two forms just watched the scenes unfold. A black skinned woman astride a tall horse, and the raven haired she-elf who stood next to her, hands pressed against the dome, eyes glued to the movements of the brown haired rider, wishing and hoping against hope for his victory, or at least survival.

The sun was near to setting now, maybe an hour before such would come to pass. Eragon stood with his feet planted firmly below him and traded blows with his two opponents. He swung for Galbatorix, who blocked it strongly. Murtagh jabs for his flesh, which he parries, and counters with a thrust of his own at his half-brother. Suddenly, the black blade came flying high in a level swing for his throat. Time seemed to freeze. Eragon knew he couldn't block the attack. Brisingr was too far outstretched against Murtagh. He couldn't back pedal, it was too late for that. The blade drew nearer. He jerked his neck muscles back in the fastest twitch he could. Deyja slid by undeterred, drawing a thin cut on his neck. Again Eragon wished his fine armor had been on, instead it was sitting in a useless heap in Saphira's saddlebags.

The cut barely punctured his throat, and the blow didn't instantly fell him, but Eragon knew it would if he allowed it to go untended. Time resumed its normal pace the moment the blade left his neck, and he was moving again. A quick dash led him to Murtagh, where he whipped Brisingr around too quickly to be blocked or hindered, and Murtagh's head fell cleanly to the floor.

Using the pain and peril of his own neck injury, Eragon managed to ignore the emotional pain of killing his own half-brother. He leapt backwards, distancing himself from the fight. Those watching thought he had clearly one that exchange, for the cut on his neck was so slight that only the elves could see it from outside of the dome, but Eragon knew that may not have been such a victory for him. As he reached for his magic, Thorn crashed in a heap on the ground near Murtagh, and began twitching around like he himself had been beheaded, though his remained woefully attached. He went very still after a moment, and the ground ceased shaking. _And so passed Murtagh Morzansson and Thorn Ruby-scaled. They died as they were born, slaves of wicked Galbatorix. May their next life be more peaceful._ That was all the thought he could spare, as a multitude of minds crashed against his own.

Galbatorix and his Eldunari harried Eragon's mind, preventing him from healing himself. To Eragon's utter despair, the strength of several eldunari blockaded him from his access point of magic. Throwing himself forward, Eragon reengaged his enemy. His breath came in ragged wisps; blood seeped into his lungs from his slit throat. It was a slow process, but Eragon knew he had less than a half hour before he'd be no longer able to breathe. He pressed the attack.

Blue met black, showers of sparks erupted, then they disengaged. The blades struck again and again, connecting thirty times in ten seconds. Eragon spun. He slashed. He spun back the other way. His breath constricted even more. He battered his blade against the king's. Suddenly, the king's back arched, and his arm went out wide. Saphira had Shruikan by a wing. Eragon lurched forward, and swung an uppercut with his blue blade. The king jerked his arm, getting it in the way of his swing. No matter, for Brisingr easily cut through his flesh. Galbatorix's sword arm flew high into the air; Deyja followed it.

Shruikan managed to free himself from Saphira's grasp, and so she picked a new target. She dove, and swallowed the flying arm whole, but the sword fell to low for her to grab. It landed twenty feet away from the fighting, behind Eragon. Said rider pressed his advantage, stabbing forward with Brisingr, the flame igniting seemingly of its own accord along the metal blade. Galbatorix, even in pain, was too quick, however, and drew a knife with his left hand, then parried the thrust. The flames singed his armor a little, but no damage was done. Eragon struck again, but slower this time. It was equally blocked. Blood sprayed out from Galbatorix's stump, but then it glowed and the bleeding stopped_. Magic, arrgh, mine's still blocked_. Except for Brisingr's flame, he was still unable to access grammarye. The blood in his lungs pooled even higher, and Eragon drew a last, ragged breath, and held it.

The fighting these next couple of minutes got slower and slower, until the two riders were fighting at a speed even the humans outside the dome could clearly follow. Eragon kept up his assault, but Galbatorix no longer countered, he merely parried. Despite his lost arm and sword, a smile played across the handsome lips of the dark king. Eragon's vision began to fade, until his peripheral vision was filled with black. Limbs weak with lack of oxygen, he stumbled forward and struck again. His tunnel vision got worse, until he could only see Galbatorix in front of him, and nothing else. His insides yearned for the air that never came. He struck again, but the force of the block sent him reeling back.

Galbatorix slowly circled around Eragon, blocking every meager strike with ease. Finally, his foot bumped against what he was looking for. In a blur of speed, Galbatorix kicked up Deyja from the ground, caught it, and lunged forward. Eragon attempted to block the strike, but Brisingr never came close to the black sword as it was shoved passed his defenses. He could feel his insides tear and explode as the sword slipped through him, poking almost shyly out of his back.

Eragon fell to his knees. Galbatorix released his sword and stepped away. Time seemed to freeze; several things happened all at once. Saphira dove, and landed behind Eragon. Shruikan landed behind Galbatorix. Galbatorix drew his sword from Eragon's chest, and moved a step back to admire his work. But none of these things were noticed by Eragon, his eyes were focused, all of his will used to keep them seeing, on a green eyed elf outside of the magical dome. Their eyes locked, and he could see tears streaming swiftly down her alabaster face. She didn't blink; he didn't dare to. He released his breath, that last, long rush of air that he had held in. His vision began to blur. He stared at her nonetheless.

A silent understanding passed between the pair then, and finally, with a hole quite literally in his heart, Eragon knows that she loves him back. Arya, the beautiful princess of the elves loves him back. His vision blurred again. He willed it to steady. Then, a great blast of magic emanated from Saphira, a light that shattered the dome in her grief. A second, smaller light shine from Eragon, and raced towards Arya unseen. He stared for a moment longer, seeing at the last her emerald eyes, then collapsed to the ground, and all was dark for him.

Recognizing the danger he was in after the dome shattered, Galbatorix leaped onto Shruikan and flew away, more tired than he'd been in a century, but utterly victorious. A host of arrows and magical bolts followed him, but he escaped without further injury.

When the dome shattered, everyone outside it sprinted towards the downed rider. The Elves present easily outpaced all others. Arya easily outpaced all other elves. She reached Eragon within seconds, dropped to the ground, and cradled his head in her lap. Saphira wrapped defensively around the pair, keening loudly in soul-anguish. Arya felt the remaining heat leave his body. She wept loudly for lost opportunities and love. Saphira's loud grief was heard for miles.

It was a sad evening; a red sun set in the west. Storm clouds suddenly covered the area, releasing buckets of rain as nature cried for the world's loss. Whenever anyone approached the grieving pair, Elf and Dragon, they were sent running with flames at their heels. Roran and Nasuada were turned away so.

They stayed on the battlefield for three days, Elf and Dragon, mourning the death of the last rider besides crazed Galbatorix, mourning the man they both loved completely. During this time, the bodies of Murtagh and Thorn were burned without ceremony. The entirety of the Varden wept openly, grown men and little girls alike, at the king's victory in what was later to be called the greatest duel ever fought. Then, near the end of the third day, Saphira uncurled herself to go hunting, revealing in her wake a ten foot tall tomb, made completely out of diamonds. Eragon's corpse lay perfectly in the middle, cleaned from the rigors of war, and looked more peaceful in death than in life. Arya stood by it, finishing the inscription, the Belt of Belouth the Wise strapped to her waist, and Brisingr in its sheath dangling by her hip. Aren rested on a finger of her left hand, the green dragon egg securely strapped to her back. Her eyes were clear, her face a blank mask as she used magic to finish writing.

**Here lies Eragon Bromsson, Rider of the Dragon Saphira, hope of the Varden. He was a beloved friend, and will be missed by all. May he rest eternally at peace.**

**Author's note: So, what do y'all think? You knew it was coming, so it wasn't really a surprise scene. Now, I need to know a few things, so reviewing would be helpful. To reiterate, tell me whether or not to end it here. Also, if you say for me to continue, then I need to know some more things. These are moot if you want me to stop, so stop reading at this point and just review saying such.**

**Now, should Arya have a child?**

**Should Arya become the green rider? If not, then I have a plan for her.**

**Should Eragon pull a Gandalf? (for those of you who don't know who Gandalf is, I am asking if he should come back to life, more powerful than he was before he died.)**

**Should I involve Elva with this story at all? **

**Review please, or I shall assume that you all just want me to stop wasting your times ;)**


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